Forever
by mahrie
Summary: Sequel to The Past that Haunts the Future. Includes a conspiracy, a tragedy and unrequited love.
1. Chapter 1

A/n: This is the first chapter of the sequel to my previous story, _The Past that Haunts the Future_. So to get a better understanding of what's going on, it would serve you well to read that first.

Chapter 1

The wedding was going perfectly well, with Lothlorien decked out in all its glory. Éowyn had missed Rohan in all her days at Lothlorien, however, she knew that her new life made up for everything that she had lost in many more ways than she could have imagined that it would possibly have. There wasn't anything else that she could possibly have wished for, and Haldir had stood firm by her side despite all the tragedy that she was forced to go through. Yet, even he didn't know all the turmoil that she was being tossed into, banished to the raging waves and current all alone.

-Flashback-

"Lady Éowyn, there is a letter for you, from Rohan," Rumil said to her.

Éowyn shook slightly. "Letter? From Rohan?" she gasped slightly, unsure if she had heard right. With trembling hands, she took the letter and read it out shakily.

_King Theoden has died in battle. Return as soon as possible. _

_Your brother, Éomer_

Éowyn felt tears streaming out silently. She had no need to sob, or to cry out loudly. There was inexpressible sadness, pain and hate that she strove to fight back. The pain seemed to drive a stake through her heart, and she felt an overwhelming rush of rage engulf her. The cruel, cold-blooded murderer who had killed her beloved uncle would pay – or would have. There was little she could do now but grieve. She regretted not being there, and she blamed herself for not seeing him before his demise. She hadn't even bade him a farewell before her abrupt departure, and she would be damned for it.

-End flashback-

The soft melodious sounds of the lute gave way to an energetic waltz, and Éowyn was jolted out of her reveries as Haldir swept her around the dancefloor. Éowyn smiled up at Haldir as they twirled around, and Haldir looked at his bride as he smiled with satisfaction. _In Lothlorien, safe, with my love – we are finally free, _Haldir thought. He could see a faint shadow in her eyes, extremely well concealed, however, he had known her well enough to tell.

"Is everything all right, Éowyn dear?" he asked softly, bending near her cheek and brushing his lips against her skin.

She shivered slightly and murmured, "Perhaps later," and beamed as brightly as she could at Haldir.

Haldir knew that something was wrong, but decided not to pursue it. Instead, he led his bride to the edge of the room where there was a balcony, which overlooked the beautiful Golden Wood. As Éowyn drank in the beauty of the place, as she had done so many times before, she felt the familiar pang of sadness grip her heart, and she felt torrents of tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks. She flung herself into Haldir's arms and cried her heart out, for all she was worth. There was no point in holding it all back anymore.

"King Theoden – my uncle – died," she gasped, sobbing. "I'll have to return to Rohan," she added through her tears.

Haldir felt a sudden coldness grip his heart. He knew about Éowyn's attachment to her uncle, and realized that she was on the brink of being inconsolable.

"Éowyn, we'll leave at once," he said soothingly. He realized that there could be no excuse for this sudden departure. He knew that the only thing that they could do was to leave as soon as possible, and under the cover of darkness the two mounted their steeds and rode off to Rohan.

Éomer greeted them at the gates of Rohan. The bitter memories were wiped clean off the slate as brother and sister met in an embrace. He too was mourning for his dead uncle, and the atmosphere in Edoras was thoroughly funereal. As they walked back to the Golden Hall, the people sank in reverential bows to the future ruler of Rohan. Éowyn shivered in the bitter cold wind, and Éomer stared steadily ahead, trying to mask the grief and pain that he felt. As they reached the tomb, Éowyn gave a cry and shook convulsively before breaking down in tears again.

She turned and fled back into the palace, unable to face the weight of her guilt of leaving so abruptly…leaving her uncle here…she regretted deeply not being able to see him for the last time.

"He died an honorable death," Éomer told her. That she knew. She had heard the story of how he'd fought valiantly on the plains of Pelennor, and she knew that he was right. Yet, that did not take much of the pain away, and an aching hollow seemed to remain where her heart ought to be.

-And time passes…-

The Ring had been destroyed, and Éomer's coronation came all too soon. The smiles and congratulations passed easily through the people of Rohan, and Éowyn felt finally at ease once again. The sorrow had taken its toll on her, and as much as she longed for her uncle, she could feel his comforting presence around her even as she got by, and slowly eased back into her daily routine. She let her eyes wander as they lingered on people she had not seen for so long…people from her childhood…she smiled at them as she moved through the crowd. Haldir was waiting for her along the side of the room, and smiled at her as she looked resplendent in a silky gown. She took his arm, and they gazed upon the new King of Rohan. When Éomer took center stage as the newly crowned king, she beamed at her brother proudly. A fleeting movement at the back of the crowded party caught her eye. The pale white face, the shock of stringy black hair, the hunched back, the cold, hard eyes…

A/n: Grins at the cliffhanger (: Thanks for reading! Now, go on and review ((:


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Éowyn bit back a gasp of surprise. _No. It cannot be. Grima Wormtongue cannot be standing a mere few feet away from me, _she thought. She whirled around abruptly, feeling ill. Haldir turned to her.

"Did you see that?"

"See what?" she asked, feigning a countenance of ignorance.

"Grima Wormtongue. Saruman's faithful servant is here at the back…"

Éowyn sighed. "Haldir, I know. Do you suppose he's a spy now?" Haldir stared at the figure that was now making his way towards the newly crowned king. Éowyn gestured towards the direction in which he was heading.

"Perhaps we ought to warn Éomer. Remember the trance Grima managed to put your uncle in…" Haldir said hurriedly. Éowyn could only remember too well the dreadful times, and she had been delighted when they had ended. No way could she possibly go through more months of that, wondering if any of his soul was left, and how much of him was actually untainted and uncorrupted by his lies and deceit…

They walked to Éomer's side. "Good evening, Éowyn, Haldir," he said, but faltered at the sight of the matching looks of worry on both their faces.

"Your Majesty," Haldir said with appropriate pomp and circumstance, "Grima Wormtongue, a traitor of the kingdom of Rohan, has the audacity to turn up at this coronation," he said.

"We must find out what he wants. There cannot be much that he wants from _us_, now that the Ring has been destroyed, and he and his master cannot possibly still harbour thoughts of ruling Middle-Earth again," Éomer said firmly.

"We must not assume anything at this point of time, " he added. "And Éowyn, I must insist that you stick close to Haldir, and _do not let Wormtongue get within five feet within your radius_," he emphasized.

As they spoke, Grima appeared before Éomer and said revently, "Your Majesty," Éomer gave him a quick glance before letting his eyes wander to Éowyn and Haldir, who both looked disturbed at the interruption.

"Rise, Grima Wormtongue," Éomer said slowly and deliberately. He could not afford to betray any uncertainty, worry or hesitation. Grima's eyes darted around wildly, his nostrils dilating in either fear or nervousness.

"Your Majesty," he repeated, "I come to seek refuge in this noble country, alone," he said, bowing. "I come under no orders, and of my own free will. This, you can have my word that I mean no malice," he said.

Éomer stared at him hard. As diplomatically as he could, he gave Grima a curt nod. "I will return shortly to discuss this matter with you," he said coolly.

"Éowyn, Haldir, may I have a word?" he asked hurriedly. "Would it be advisable to let him stay first and then discover the plot he is hatching, or do we choose not to let him stay at all?" he asked tersely. The last thing he needed was to awaken one morning to find Rohan under siege…again.

Haldir shook his head. "I think we ought to let him stay, then worm the truth out of him,"

"I am obliged to agree. We do not want him to know that we suspect he is up to some vile plot of his again," Éowyn said.

Éomer sighed. "Then, it is settled,"

As Éomer walked back to speak to Grima Wormtongue, Haldir and Éowyn left for the side of the room and watched the strange exchange between the two men. As Éomer spoke, Grima made repeated bows before turning around, a faint trace of a smile appearing on his bloodless lips.

Haldir motioned to Éowyn. "I have a feeling there is someone instigating these deeds. I think I ought to spy on him for the time being…"

Éowyn's face clouded over momentarily. "Haldir, can you imagine? Perhaps he's got an entire horde of people with him?"

"Look, Éowyn, I'll be fine, I promise I'll take care, and always be on top of the situation," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Putting on a cloak, he stepped out into the chilly air of Rohan nighttime, and heard voices coming from a seemingly abandoned shack a distance away.

"Remember, Grima, you are not to tell anyone about my presence here," a voice said. The voice was warm, tempting and even welcoming.

"Yes, Master. We shall not be foiled this time," he said. _Master?_ Haldir thought. _Surely Saruman couldn't be here? _

"The first part of the plan is complete. Now that you are here, we shall remove this incompetent king from power. Not even the fool Gandalf can save them now," the other voice said, before bursting into soft, hypnotic laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Haldir clenched his fists in impatience and concern. This was the honour, royal title and most importantly, the life of his brother-in-law they were discussing in there. He paced up and down silently, pausing to duck behind an ornately carved pillar of the Palace to allow Grima Wormtongue to pass into Edoras again. He gazed around, knowing that he had to find out who the mysterious man inside the tent was. Peering through the slightest crack in the walls, he found himself staring straight at

_Saruman? Why would he be here too? As they've said, the Ring is destroyed. They have no reason to wreak terror and ruin Middle-Earth again._ Haldir hurriedly left the post next to the hut, and realized that night, as always, had silently crept upon the unwary and cast a gloomy spell upon Rohan. In this web of spies and treachery, he had no idea who was working for whom. He could only trust his wife and brother-in-law. Quickening his footsteps, he hurried into Edoras and sat Éowyn and Éomer down for a rundown on what he had witnessed.

Éowyn grabbed her brother frantically. "If it is true, and they are trying to impeach you, do not fall into any of their vile traps…it might prove most fatal…most fatal," she warned ominously.

Haldir sighed. "Perhaps not to such a dramatic extent, my dear," he said, placing his hand over hears, "yet you have to be on your guard at all times."

Éomer nodded, yet looked unconvinced. "Who's making Saruman do all this?"

"From the shabby conditions, I'd say that he is working of his own accord," Haldir said softly. "And so we must always play for time,"

Éowyn shook her head. "If this is the case, they cannot be after only the throne of Rohan, or if there's going to be even anything else after they're done," she said slowly. "We have to warn Gondor as well."

Éomer nodded. "Perhaps old ambitions have risen again, and the wretched wizard has decided that he was going to take over Middle-Earth again. Send word to Gondor – or we shall leave for Gondor after this problem has been settled," he said commandingly.

Éowyn walked down the narrow corridors leading up to her room. Despite holding a candle which illuminated the path ahead, she still felt unsafe as she plodded on. The floorboards creaked under her feet and her heart pounded with fear. Perhaps it was unusual to feel so much fear in her home, yet the darkness seemed to close in on her instead of reflecting the familiarity that it once held. Glancing hastily behind her, she could see nobody, yet she quickened her pace. Dashing into the room, she slammed the door shut behind her. Her stomach churned and she felt nauseous. Haldir stared at her momentarily, noticing her flushed cheeks and hair askew. She gazed into his eyes.

"Haldir, I suspect someone was following me down the passage earlier until I glanced backwards and started running," she said, her voice laced with worry. Her hard started spinning and imaged leaped before her. Haldir clasped her close with worry, and stroked her hair gently.

"And this room is a save haven?" he quipped - yet he could not help but feel frightened. If his wife was being stalked, and mysterious people were pacing up and down the corridors at night… serious measures had to be taken. As Éoeyn rested her head on Haldir's shoulder, she felt the energy draining out of her. It had been a terribly long day, and all she needed was rest…

Éowyn awoke the next morning, finding Haldir still asleep next to her, curled up beneath the sheets. Smiling wryly, she got out of bed gingerly. Staring at herself in the mirror, she blinked twice. It might have been her imagination, but her belly been rounding out since…since a fateful night in Lothlorien nearly two months back…that would certainly explain the frazzled nerves and nausea. She shivered slightly as she slid into a dress which had tightened slightly around her waist. She suddenly felt much more aware of the world around of her, and felt as if she was being repeatedly doused into cold and hot water. How was she going to break the news to him, she thought worriedly. After all, she wasn't even sure he would be entirely pleased by the news.

As she stepped out, she realized that he had awoken. She bit her lip nervously at first, but straightened up. She glanced at him momentarily, and caught his eye. Haldir stared at her slowly. _Why was she acting all furtive and frightened all of a sudden?_ He walked over to her and placed an arm over her shoulder. _Perhaps she was still upset by the incident yesterday_, he thought slowly. She seemed exceptionally jumpy and nervous.

She smiled at him shakily. "Haldir, perhaps you ought to sit down for a moment," she said.

Haldir gazed at her for a moment. "Yes, Éowyn?" He was filled with love for his wife who was staring at him both hopefully and nervously. Perhaps she needed some prodding, and he smiled at what he hoped looked encouraging.

"Haldir…I'm pregnant,"

A/n: Oh, evil, evil cliffhanger. I am so sorry. I have no idea how the story entwines and ended up like this and I have to dig myself out of this mess which I have written myself into. I promise the next chapter will be better. Really. And here's a big THANK YOU to all my reviewers who continued reviewing even though this is getting worse and worse...ominous stare


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Perfect. Soon the royal family of Rohan will be thrown into ruins. There will be nobody left to defend its honour…and the vast land shall be _mine_," Saruman laughed to himself. His eerie laugh reechoed in the small thatched hut in which Grima Wormtongue stayed on the pretext of being alone. He was certain that nobody knew of his presence in Rohan till the previous night, when that meddling elf had so deftly staked out their hideaway. As was expected, he has gone running to his wife and _that king_, alerting them to the plot. Treachery used to be simpler. True, the rest of the people didn't know who really lived in the little hut. There were no large armies to shock and alert them, neither was there fear in the air. It ought to have been the perfect setting for a massacre and an assassination, but no, the groveling of Grima Wormtongue at Éomer's feet had been a blatant sign of the plot. Yet, Grima had been resourceful, he mused. Following the sister of the king had revealed surprising inside information and would help him in his great plan. Yes, nothing like a child to throw them into confusion. A little emotional blackmail would mess with their minds so much that they wouldn't know who they were after he was done.

* * *

Haldir's eyes widened at the news, and Éowyn stared at him glassily, as if expecting some violent reaction. She felt her resolve fade and murmured, "Look, perhaps this isn't the best time for drastic revelations, but I thought you'd like to know…" Éowyn said softly.

Haldir shook his head in disbelief. "I'm completely thrilled, but what about the child's safety? With this plot and all…" but before he could complete his sentence, he felt a smile creeping onto his face unwillingly and pinned his wife down, crushing her with a passionate kiss. The sky seemed bluer than he had remembered, and the birds seemed to chirp with gaiety. As the world seemed to spin in a bubble of happiness for the couple, the door flew open. They leapt apart to find Éomer standing at the doorway. His eyes held a grim, determined look.

"I think we ought to exile Grima Wormtongue at once,"

Exile. The word hung in the air like an ominous shadow over them. Was it really in all their best intentions to exile him – wouldn't that force him to carry out his master's dastardly deeds earlier, and more swiftly?

Éomer shook his head. "We must. There is no other way to ensure that he is gone for good, or to guarantee all our safety. We will not rest in peace till he leaves out noble land,"

Haldir exchanged a quick glance with Éowyn hurriedly. "Perhaps we ought to all pass judgment on him – together." Another long still silence hung in the air. They were all thinking the same thing – what if Grima Wormtongue, in a fit of fury, murdered the King there and then? Éomer paced up and down the room mutinous, musing to himself thoughtfully. He looked weary, old and tired wrinkles lined his brow as he frowned. There was turmoil, and there would be no security until Grima Wormtongue was gone…for good.

Éomer straightened up. "Yes. It must be done." Saying so, he strode out, leaving Haldir and Éowyn trailing in his wake.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, Grima," Éomer said, exceedingly politely.

Grima Wormtongue smiled at Éomer, simpering. "Your Majesty," he said as he knelt on one knee, while shooting a malevolent look at Haldir and Éowyn.

Éowyn gave Éomer an encouraging look, and nudged him discreetly. Éomer immediately assumed a most regal air around himself, and said commandingly, "Grima Wormtongue, once again you have proven yourself to be a traitor and enemy of Rohan. This day henceforth, and forever as long as this royal lineage lasts, you shall be exiled from Rohan,"

Grima Wromtongue narrowed his eyes into little slits, face contorting into painful fury and barely-concealed hatred.

"You will rue this, every single one of you!" he shrieked, his voice strangled and tight. Wrapping his traveling-cloak around himself, he swept out; trying to maintain whatever dignity he had left. A blinding flash of white light shone from the thatched hut, and as the White Wizard leapt onto a horse and rode into the horizon, his minion following close behind, a bolt of lightning flashed in the distance.

"Now, off to Gondor," sighed Éomer.

The trip to Gondor took several days, and Éowyn was gradually weakening from the effects of her pregnancy. They were careful to keep it a well-guarded secret, and under the guise of being three Rangers, they rode silently into Minas Tirith. They walked steadily into the White City of Gondor, where it gleamed with all its splendor and glory.

"King Aragorn of Gondor," Éomer sketched a quick bow, and straightened as Aragorn returned the courtesy. "A meeting between old friends and comrades at arms?"

Éomer's face contorted dangerously. A vein throbbed in his jaw as he glared steadily. "Are you familiar with a certain Grima Wormtongue?" Aragorn nodded darkly.

"Well, he has recently approached us in Rohan, on the pretence of being an innocent countryman,"

Haldir nodded in agreement. "And in reality, there was a bitter plot to kill Éomer and take over Rohan,"

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully. "I understand what you are going with this logic. You fear that Gondor will be under siege –"

"No, not under siege, but a silent, unforeseen attack," Éowyn added slowly.

"Then, my friends, we will wait. And we shall act then,"

A/N: Hi there! Yes! New chapter up _finally_. Have been pretty busy recently, therefore could not really find the time to type. Will update again soon, hopefully. BTW, I re-read y previous chapter, I'M SORRY!!!! There are so many typos - I almost died!! Sigh! Okay then. You know the drill. Review please? blinks


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"The kingdom has been doing rather well, and some semblance of peace has returned to the ravaged lands of Gondor," Aragorn said proudly, gazing across the lands of his country. Éomer and Haldir exchanged smiles, after all, it had been quite some time since the battle of Pelennor Fields, and the coronation of the King of Gondor. Éowyn steadfastly refused to meet Aragorn's stare, while a light flush coloured her cheeks as she faltered under his gaze. As they walked through Gondor, Aragorn stopped abruptly.

"Tell me about his treachery and how he entered the country," he said simply.

Éomer shook his head. "We do not know how he entered, and from where he came. However, it is clear that his intention was to take over the throne of Rohan," he said contemptuously. "He might enter Gondor through Ithilien, or take the path past Dol Amroth into Minas Tirith," Éomer noted, "or he might also be on his way directly from Rohan, taking the path along the Great River down into the city,"

Aragorn nodded cautiously. "We shall have guards to secure the castle walls and to ensure that we are safe and that the people will be protected. We must not allow him an easy path to entering the castle,"

Éowyn spoke up suddenly. "Forget not the power that Saruman wields. He can use any form of his evil magic to make his foul plots work,"

Éomer acknowledged the statement with a nod. "Saruman has proven time and time again that he has powers that we ought not fail to register. They can topple Minas Tirith should he wish to do so,"

Aragorn shook his head. "That is where you are wrong, my friends. I do not think that he would want to destroy the city when it is secure and fortified. Instead, he will observe from afar. He would then take over without war, and would not have to rebuild. With Minas Tirith at his disposal, he will achieve far more than if the city was damaged,"

All of them pondered his statements deeply for a moment. As they did so, one of the sentries came up to them.

"Your Majesty," he said, kneeling towards Aragorn, 'the Prince of Ithilien has arrived,"

Aragorn nodded. "Thank you. My friends, I have sent for the Prince of Ithilien – Faramir – when I heard from you. I had wished that we could all come up with a satisfactory solution to this problem…" He turned to the sentry. "Show him here." The sentry bowed, and exited hastily, returning shortly with a man.

"Prince Faramir of Ithilien," Aragorn said. "May I present Éomer, King of Rohan, his sister Éowyn, and her husband, Haldir, March Warden of Lothlorien,"

Faramir returned the courtesy, and as he bowed to each of them in turn, he felt his gaze lingering on Éowyn momentarily. _Ridiculous,_ he told himself. _After all, she is married, to an elf, no less._

"We are going to prepare for an imminent attack, one which makes use of stealth instead of brute force," Aragorn informed Faramir.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before replying, "Stealth is right. It is unlikely that he would show his face here after what happened in Rohan,"

Éowyn stared at him. "Well, he had been exiled once when – when my uncle was still alive, but that did not stop him from returning," she said, a tinge of sadness creeping into her voice when Theoden was mentioned. Haldir gave her a quick smile of encouragement, and she accepted it gratefully, albeit wearily. She glanced around, and noticed that Faramir was watching her closely. She immediately assumed a regal and icy expression, and glared at him coldly. He looked away immediately, and she relaxed. She detested the feeling of being intensely watched and under scrutiny, and shrank away from the conversation temporarily. Haldir sensed her discomfort, and mouthed to the rest, "I'll take her back up, she's not feeling well…"

"Éowyn, are you all right?" he asked. He realized that he was extremely worried, and hoped that she was fine, and he didn't want anything to happen to the baby.

She shook her head slowly. "I just get these cold flashes, and all the time…I'm scared and uncertain. I ought to have stayed in Rohan. I don't know, I'm nervous about everything now…traveling, especially with the child…"

Haldir understood her worries perfectly. "Perhaps you ought to get some rest, you might be tired after a long day,"

Éowyn nodded slightly, but what she felt she really needed was some quiet time alone, to disappear from all this talk of plots and treachery and of spies. She entered the room, and kissed Haldir goodbye. She paced around the room after he was gone. Perhaps she ought to take a little walk around Minas Tirith – on her own.

Slipping out of the room, she padded down the hallway and out of the confinements of the room. Glancing around, she saw lush greenery amongst the gleaming white towers. The residents were at peace, the joy of young children was around her…the city seemed calm. Could Saruman and Grima Wormtongue really come and wreck the idyllic bliss that these people enjoyed? She knew the answer – they could, and would. Shaking her head, she realized that none of these civilians knew what possibly awaited them. As she strolled along, she noticed that Éomer and Haldir were heading her way again.

"Éowyn, shouldn't you be indoors, resting?" Éomer asked her with the usual brotherly concern.

"I was feeling slightly claustrophobic indoors, but a little walk seems to have cleared my mind," she said, waving her hand in the air.

"Well, here's the good news: Aragorn and the Queen, that is, Arwen, say that we are allowed to say here, under their protection," Haldir chipped in.

"Well, so if it isn't just like old times again – all of us back together."

A/n: Thanks for all your reviews. You may have to wait a little while for the next chapter, will be away for the whole week, yes. Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

The Prince of Ithilien clasped his hands together at the end of the dinner table in the hall. He averted his gaze as the trio of visitors entered with the King, and stared at the far side of the room instead. Perhaps it would be best if he put her far from his mind instead of dwelling on thoughts of one who seemed to live happily enough. It would be such a tragedy if he had to wreck her blissful marriage, he thought. Knowing also that she was from the noble house of Eorl, she was bound to be loyal and fiercely independent. No, it was not worth it. The entire reason why he was here was to serve his King, he reminded himself angrily. The unexpected treachery of Grima Wormtongue – again – had shocked them all greatly. No, it would not happen again, not in Gondor.

Night fell swiftly upon the White City. A chill hung in the air and they could all feel it in their bones. The winter was approaching fast. Days shortened, and nights were growing longer. Haldir realized that it had been a tremendously long time since the eternal sunshine of Lothlorien, the Golden Wood radiating glory and charm, and his fellow elfkind. His Lord and Lady must have been startled by their abrupt departure, and he felt himself experiencing a pang of loss and sadness. True, he was having a marvelous life with his wife and the love between them bloomed and soared. However, he found himself wishing, perhaps hoping, that he could escape from this web of intrigue and return to Lothlorien…perhaps just for a while…a few days…Some things could only be wishful thinking, and in his sadness he stepped near the balcony overlooking the plains. Troubles plagued him. He hoped sincerely that Aragorn would be safe – after all, he had been a close friend and confidante. A foreboding element hung in the air and he was unable to shake off an increasingly uneasy feeling about how the night would turn out to be. He worried about his wife as well. Éowyn was behaving in an increasingly strangely since she had discovered that she was pregnant, and he could barely fathom the reason why. He was also apprehensive of the Price of Ithilien, Faramir. His repeated glances at Éowyn unnerved him, and he knew that Faramir's presence seemed to startle Éowyn's already rattled nerves. He knew that the Prince was highly loyal to Aragorn, but he could not help feeling that perhaps Faramir was staring at Éowyn – much too frequently and suspiciously…Shaking his head, he realized that there were dozens of thoughts clogging up his head, and closed his eyes momentarily.

A faint glow formed around him. Slowly, he could make out a faint image of the Lady of Lothlorien, Galadriel, appearing before him. First blurry, then forming into the image of what he could nearly believe was real flesh and blood, he realized that his prayers had been answered.

"Lady Galadriel?" he asked, perhaps a little hesitantly. He did not know how to react to her sudden appearance, even if it was only in his mind.

Her voice was liquidy and filled with emotion as she enunciated each word slowly and softly. "Haldir, some things are best left unknown, but for those who have seen it in the Mirror when gazing for answers, this is what I have witnessed: I see grave peril in your future, in the very near future. This concerns so many people indeed, and that is the only reason why I feel I ought to tell you,"

"Grave peril? Lady Galadriel, you must be mistaken," he gasped. There must not possibly be any threat to any of them now, not when they were attempting to save the King of Gondor from falling into enemy hands again.

"Haldir, I say it to you. Do what you have to. Fulfill your destiny and your duty. When you pass, you pass not into the Shadow, but you follow into the path where you will live in glory again. The Mirror never lies – it serves as a guide for our actions. Go in peace, my child," she said. Her voice seemed mournful and took on a heavy note as she faded away. The golden light dissolved into nothingness, and Haldir opened his eyes. Grave peril. It seemed to be part of wherever he went. So much that it was practically part of his life, he thought wryly. However, he knew that he would have difficulty adapting to his life with this new bit of information. All he could think of was the enormous gulf that would be in the life of his child, his wife…everything that could have been but now would never be reality. The thought nearly choked him, as he knew that despite everything, the Lady of the Light was right. He would have to do what duty demanded. Shrinking back from valour would never do. And Éowyn would never have to know about Galdadriel's premonition…

Somehow, he found himself walking back to the room where they were staying. Opening the door stiffly, he was glad that the room was empty. It would give him a few minutes alone to sort everything out…

As he sat down on the bed, the door flew open. He sighed to himself impatiently, and looked up. Éowyn entered, a smile playing on her lips. "You ought to have come. We had a rather delightful time in the woods and the stables-"

"Something _is_ bothering you," she murmured, sensing his tension and worried look. He shrugged listlessly – better to play the unconcerned and distant husband that to worry her – and shook his head, pretending to be irritated.

"It's nothingÉowyn," he said, a tad more harshly than he had intended. Éowyn glared at him and narrowed her eyes into little slits. "You're _definitely_ hiding something, Haldir. I know you are, and…you can just keep your little secrets!" she exclaimed as she whirled around and slid into bed silently, trying to block the emotions rushing around her…

Arwen awoke in her boudoir. It must be nearly midnight, she thought, and a creak in the room seemed to echo in the room. Aragorn, strangely, had not stirred or some through from the other side of the room. She shivered, and tried to convince herself that she was only hearing things in her subconscious mind. She thought of awakening Aragorn, but perhaps it was simply her imagination in overdrive. She strained her Elvish ears. Silence. She looked around. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary…

"Surprise, my lovely Queen of Gondor," an icy voice behind her sliced through the air coldly. She bit back a gasp as she saw an unfamiliar figure wielding a sword behind her.

"I will," he said, a cold smile creeping onto his lips as he grabbed her close, "stab the King of Gondor right here," he said, mock-thoughtfully, "and when I'm done, I will take you as my wife," he added, a smirk playing on his lips. Arwen knew that there was no time to lose, and let out an earsplitting shriek. Aragorn awoke in a cold sweat in the adjoining room, grabbed his sword and charged into the room.

"Grima Wormtongue. I see. We meet again," he said simply. Grima realized that he had to hold the Queen hostage, and pushed Arwen forcefully to the end of the room.

"You will never see her alive again unless you relinquish your throne, King of Gondor," he mocked. The door flew open again, and Haldir dashed in. this was his time, and he knew that this was the warning that Galadriel had foreseen. As the duel commenced, they parried and thrust, while they coerced Grima into a corner. As Aragorn took a bold stab at him, Grima broke loose of their bond. He had one shot to act. His left arm bleeding from the swordfight, he contemplated quickly as he blocked another attack from the elf. Yes, the elf must die. Thwarting Saruman's plans, ruining the plans…yes. He had to die. Thrusting the sword as far as his arm's reach would allow him, he caught Haldir unaware, and stabbed him viciously before pulling out the bloodstained sword and throwing it down onto the ground and made a run for it. Aragorn dropped his sword too, and as he dashed forwards and cradled his bloodied comrade gently, he shouted, "Call Lady Éowyn of Rohan!"

As Éowyn entered, she was not sure what to expect, but most certainly not the horrors that she saw before her. Her eyes rested on the prostrate body of her fallen husband. Her face paled and as Aragorn whispered, "I'm so sorryÉowyn," her tears streamed down soundlessly as she wept.

"Éowyn, my dear. Promise me you'll take care of the child. Promise me the child will live, that you will live your life the way you did when I still am here…my love is a beacon that will shine on even in your darkest times," he choked out, his face contorting in pain.

"I've known…Lady Galadriel's told me about this. I couldn't possibly have told you…but it is my time. I must pass into the Other Side now, my love," he said, before his face relaxed into an expression of peace and serenity.

And then, he was gone.

A/n: Oh dear. I really didn't mean to _kill_ him in such an abrupt manner, but there's MORE. Really. Keep on reviewing, dearies, and have a happy Chinese New Year (9th February)!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A most subdued funeral for the fallen March Warden of Lothlorien took place in Gondor shortly after, where only the closest to him were present. The Lady and Lord of Lothlorien had specially made the journey to Gondor to pay their last respects to a faithful friend and loyal servant – one who had baffled them time and time again, yet was loyal to the end. Éomer watched his sister sink back into the self-inflicted shell, the stupor that she seemed to dwell in Haldir's absence. It was her private world that only she could see. As Lady Galadriel said the final eulogy for the March WardenÉowyn bowed her head and shut her eyes tight. Her nightmares of the fatal night replayed themselves in her mind, repeatedly, in sepia and colour, mocking her, coldly taunting her, determined to drive her to breaking point. She looked up defiantly, staring at the sea of faces before her. Aragorn and Arwen. Galadriel and Celeborn. Didn't she deserve to have her own happy ending as well? As her own world closed in on her again and enclosed her in a tiny room where light seldom shone in, she was only too happy to ignore them all. Say all they would, but nothing could, or would, bring back the past.

Faramir bowed before the coffin respectfully. He had not known the elf well, apart from the customary small talk, but he felt morally obliged to be present. After all, it concerned all of them – and Éowyn had taken this final blow exceptionally hard. He felt a twinge of sympathy going out to Éomer – it was going to take a lot of time before his sister would open up again. Her expression was guarded, yet as she mourned deeply, she had her defences up and steadfastedly refused to meet anyone's eyes. The usual consolations passed between the guests and herself, but she barely acknowledged any of them, her gaze fixated on the tombstone and the closed marble coffin. Faramir leaned close to Éowyn, trying to ease her emotions and to get her to escape from her own private closed walls. Essentially, she had placed herself into an imaginary coffin in her mind and sealed it up, refusing to let anyone near her again. As Éomer consoled and soothed her, she leaned against her brother's solid frame and cried softly. Hysterics were barely her style; moreover, she was surprised that she still had the energy to cry on. Éomer exchanged a quick glance with Faramir, and Faramir looked away hastily. Perhaps he ought to wait till the time was right. It might seem insensitive, not to mention inappropriate, to console the wife of the fallen in such close proximity, especially so soon after the incident. He bent on one knee, placed the customary offerings on the grave, and retreated silently into the castle.

Galadriel bowed her head silently. She gazed at Éowyn and Éomer in turn, and Éomer took the hint and stood up.

"I'll see you laterÉowyn," he said as he left.

"My childÉowyn," she began softly.

"You knew, milady. You knew, and yet you let him die like that. Have you no mercy? You are an elf. You live to be thousands of years old, and yet you subject Haldir to this…" she burbled through her tears.

"Fate is a delicate thing," she replied, "and by removing him from his fate, a more dangerous life will await him," she said.

"And so I'm made to return to Rohan, alone, and to care for this child alone with no form of motivation, nothing to view each passing day as a joy, with nobody or nothing to live for?" she cried as her voice was wracked with uncertainty and fear.

"ListenÉowyn. Your life must go on. You must not perish yet. Your time has not yet come to be," Galadriel said patiently. However, she felt the similar emptiness in her. She would have a hard time explaining his death to his brothers. Furthermore, for the first time, she felt truly at a loss of what to say to the Lady of Rohan.

Éomer sat in the room silently. Haldir had been a rather close confidante towards the end of his days, and they had several deep conversations, and eventually formed some sort of friendship. His passing was a loss to him, as a brother-in-law, and most importantly, he knew that the Prince of Ithilien was using this opportunity to manipulate his way into the heart of his sister. He was not particularly _averse_ to the Prince, but he did feel that all due respect to Éowyn's feelings had to be given. He shook his head tersely and realized that everything Éowyn had bound her life to was gone and crashed onto her like a terrible avalanche. She was buried too deep under the snow to dig herself out again, and the vision was much too blurred. She would have lots of trouble picking herself out of the snow, and to tread on firm ground again.

"Aragorn, I'm worried about my sister," Éomer began.

"She's been cooped up alone for a week. This cannot possibly be good," Aragorn replied.

"With the child and all, yes?" Éomer said.

Aragorn sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder if all this has been for the best. Even though I do love Arwen with all my heart, I do wonder if perhaps, I had paid Éowyn more attention, and that if Arwen had decided to leave for Valinor, the most sensible course of action would be to marry your sister? And with that, perhaps Haldir would never have even met Éowyn, and Haldir would be back in Lothlorien where he belongs, and Arwen would also be happy with her people, an Éowyn wouldn't have to go through this trauma…but it's just a lot of 'ifs' and frankly, nothing more…just scenarios played out that never can be real," Aragorn mused. "And Éomer…you currently stand the best chance of getting her to open up again. It's all up to you, her brother, to save her from the depths of darkness."

A gentle knock at her door surprised Éowyn. Usually, they were followed by a worried cry of her name, or an uncertain, "Are you alright?" They didn't understand that she had to be alone. She needed the peace, quiet and the solace. She needed to get her thoughts in order and even though she knew that she would never fully accept Haldir's death, and put it behind her, she knew that she would have to face the masses once again. Perhaps she ought to start by, well, actually looking the people in the eye, chin up and face-to-face. Rubbing her blotchy face, she opened the door to find the Prince of Ithilien, Faramir, standing outside her door hesitantly. She had been half-expecting her brother. Or at least even Aragorn, who was, all things considered, still an old friend.

"It's you," she said much more harshly than she meant to. A mildly hurt expression clouded over his face, but the sympathetic look soon returned.

"I just wanted to say that…if there's anything that you may possibly require aid in, I'll be more than willing to help," he said. He cringed to himself. Did he really think that she needed his help? With her brother and the King of Gondor as her pillars of strength, he barely even entered the picture, he told himself regretfully. Yet, he had truly wanted to let her _know_…

Éowyn's eyes flickered up and down before replying, "Hmm," she was absolutely tired of the people around her promising that things would get better, that life would pick up and that they would help…

"Listen, Prince Faramir, it is not an empty promise I need now. Nor is it any pledges of help or any pity from a faint heart," she said acidly.

"My lady Éowyn, I come not to give you any empty promises, but to tell you also that you have haunted my dreams since the very day we met, and also that despite everything, I do love you,"

A/N: Trust me, the story doesn't end yet. And it gets weirder and weirder. But in any case, thanks for reviewing (:


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Éowyn's face paled. No, she would not allow herself to be taken in by these words of love and affection. Nothing ever came out of them anyway, and she tightened her lips into a scowl. Perhaps she was coming off as aloof and unfriendly, but nothing else could do. Fancy the nerve of the Prince of Ithilien, latching onto her so quickly. She twisted her face into a sardonic smile eventually.

"I'm sorry, but perhaps the situation is too much for you to comprehend? My husband's just perished, and I have a child, and a person whom I've just known is making declarations of love at my door," she said sarcastically before proceeding to glare at him mutinously. Faramir seemed slightly thrown off-kilter, and shook his head.

"I am sorry, my lady," he said quickly before shutting the door silently and walking away. It had been a terrible idea, he said to himself, slightly pained and regretful. Of course the Lady of Rohan wasn't interested, she was still mourning, all things considered. He berated himself inwardly as he knocked sharply into the King of Rohan, who was hurrying around a bend.

"How is she?" Éomer asked. "I understand that you visited my sister?"

"Well. She appears well enough to pass sarcastic remarks," Faramir replied truthfully. Éomer laughed hollowly.

"Well, that appears like what she might have done when provoked…" his voice trailed off, taking on a dangerous undertone.

"Oh no, Your Majesty," Faramir said hastily. He didn't know what the Lady of Rohan would call it – unwanted advances? – but he certainly felt that under any circumstances, he hadn't been nasty and bothersome.

"Well. Well. Good, then," Éomer said, sounding slightly pompous. He walked away, leaving Faramir standing in the middle of the hallway, looking slightly confused and bemused.

Éomer sat in his chair at a desk strewn with papers. He had another crime to add to the growing list of offences on Grima Wormtongue's list of charges – murder. He cringed as he recalled the descriptions given by Aragorn, and could only feel hatred for this servant of Saruman. Yes, the White Wizard was now getting his henchmen to do all his dirty work. A little like Sauron and his Nazgul, Éomer mused to himself thoughtfully. He couldn't help wondering where his brother-in-law could possibly be at the moment – somewhere back in the Light, where the other elves who had passed went? Or did they await judgment? A rush of anger surged through Éomer. Damn Grima Wormtongue, he thought viciously as in a fit of anger, he swiped the inkpot and sent it crashing to the round. The black ink spread in an enormous black puddle, staining the ground and seeping into random sheets of parchment. As he watched the pages being dyed black, he cried like a little boy, for the first time since…well, a long time. He had felt that he had to be the strong figure, never wavering, but now in the privacy of his room, he felt the pain seep out of his soul, mingling with the salty tears and flow out in a rush.

The door flew open suddenly.

"Oh, my goodness," Aragorn said faintly, before noticing his friend wracked with tears. "Éomer, are you all right? Speak to me,"

Éomer shook his head. "I really needed to get everything out. Keeping the anger in me just wouldn't work," he said. "I'm so sorry about the floor…it wasn't deliberate but…"

Aragorn shook his head as well. "That can be cleaned up. I have a feeling, however, that your inner turmoil is still raging. You're doing a good job of hiding it in front of everyone else, but…"

"It's not the pain and sadness, it's anger and fear. You know as well as I do that he never intended to kill Haldir at all – he was just snooping around too much to get Saruman worried, so on the spur he got stabbed, Aragorn. _We_ are the ones he intends to kill. He won't hesitate to return now that he's killed and his morale has risen. When he returns, he will have larger plans. That's what worries me," Éomer realised that his voice had been rising in a crescendo, and caught himself in time. "Sorry,"

Aragorn looked concerned. He realized that his own sentiments echoed Éomer's exactly. Once word of Haldir's death leaked out to the citizens of Gondor, there would be mass hysteria. Nobody would be able to deal with a large-scale panic attack at this point of time.

Arwen pulled sharply away from the door. Her elven ears had picked up most of the strain of the conversation, and she knew what kind of danger they were in. no doubt, she'd be picking up senses of what was to come, but these senses were sometimes more of a hindrance than help. She sighed deeply and walked away, resisting the urge to find out more. She knew the bloodthirstiness and the wrath of Grima Wormtongue. She knew that all he had dome to Haldir, he intended to do to Aragorn too. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she mused to herself. At least he had died a hero's death. She allowed her thoughts to drift momentarily to the other residents. There was Éomer, the King of Rohan, who came rushing to Rohan to protect the King of Gondor. His sister, Éowyn clearly has old business with her husband, not that she blamed her for it, but she had witnessed a much more vulnerable side of the Lady of Rohan than how she had been described. Faramir – she had witnessed him gazing after Éowyn, but clearly Éowyn was much too in love with Haldir to pay him any attention, making anything more than friendship from her to Faramir nearly impossible.

Speak of the devil, Arwen thought as she walked into the garden. She glanced at the prince of Ithilien.

"Prince Faramir," she said, inclining her head in a friendly bow. Faramir acknowledged her with a deep bow. "Queen Arwen," he said politely. He seemed to be immersed in his thoughts, and Arwen felt her maternal instincts emerge.

She sat down next to him, and said, "I can tell you have a problem, Prince Faramir. And in any case, you can discuss it with me," she said warmly. She thought that perhaps she was prying, but she was really interested – and she needed someone to speak to. Not just the usual polite talk exchanged between ladies of the court, or even the polite talk that she was forced to make with Aragorn recently – clearly, he was happy enough to talk politics with Éomer, and comfort Lady Éowyn, but was too busy to speak to his own wife…she lifted her chin and gazed into Faramir's eyes, and found herself sucked by the whirlpool of emotions swirling inside.

"This morning, I went up to the Lady Éowyn, and – told her that I loved her," Faramir confessed, looking rather worried. "And perhaps – I was hoping you could have a little chat with her…and …"

Arwen shook her head. "Éowyn is mourning, and to spring such a show of affection on her would be highly unorthodox, not to mention insensitive," she said, sighing. The incredibly mindless things men could do when their minds were addled with love, she thought, but Faramir seemed to be oblivious to the obvious.

"In that case, what ought I do?" Arwen found herself at a loss of what to say. She simply replied with the most honest answer she could come up with at the moment. "Just to be a friend through her time of need. What she needs now is a close confidante," Arwen said honestly. She felt a frisson of understanding pass through them, and as Faramir stood to leave, she stood up hastily and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before spinning around wildly, and dashed for the sanctuary of the castle.

Arwen felt her head spin dangerously. Oh God, what have I done?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Éowyn gaped, wide-eyed. She knew that taking a walk in this day would have been a terrible idea. She had no idea how to react to everything at this point of time. _Haldir, if only you were here_, she thought mournfully. She has got over her infatuation with the King of Gondor years ago, but he was now something much more – he was a trusted friend, and she could only imagine his horror and shock when he found out. No, she would not betray Arwen and hurt Aragorn – yet. She couldn't decide on what to do without Haldir's counsel, but she supposed it might have been along the lines of "Follow what your heart guides you to," She sighed painfully. Betrayal. Minas Tirith reeked of the bitterness of betrayal through and through. She shook her head and retreated to the castle and back to her room. As she closed her eyes slowly, faded images filled her kind. The rugged beauty of her beloved Rohan, the serenity of Lothlorien…it soothed her mentally and she felt completely at ease, much more than she had felt in a long time.

"Lady Éowyn," A voice from outside shattered the fragile images. Thousands of dewy memories faded into nothingness as a young maiden scurried up to her as she opened the door. "Lady Arwen has sent for you, milady," she said, bowing.

"Thank you," Éowyn said, smiling down at the little girl, and strode to Arwen's room.

"Queen Arwen," she said, curtseying. Arwen gave her a friendly and peaceful smile between two non-antagonistic people. "Éowyn, I feel that you should know one thing. I know what you have seen. I can tap into images and scenes from your mind, and I'd just like to tell you that it is not…betrayal, as you might have imagined it to be," she said. Éowyn realized that with her thoughts, she had cornered the Queen of Gondor into a difficult spot. "It will be difficult for Aragorn if he finds out," Éowyn said noncommittally, trying not to sound too worried or biased. Arwen gazed at her.

"I think it's amazing how well you've all got to know each other at Rohan," Arwen said slowly, "but I don't think this is the truth he'd have wanted to hear. But more importantly, Éowyn, for yourself, are you ready to achieve closure in this part of your life?" Éowyn shut her eyes. Closure. It sounded abrupt and sharp. Ending a chapter of her life, slicing it short. Resigned to return to Rohan, just another lady of the court…

"Your Majesty, Queen Arwen, do you realize how much 'closure' might just hurt me…to be back where I dread I might end up again,"

Arwen laughed a tinkling, elvish laugh. "You misunderstand me, Lady Éowyn. The Prince of Faramir has made an…shall we say, interesting proposition,"

Éowyn's eyes hardened. "Queen Arwen, please. It would be good if you could inform him that I am neither interested, nor at all excited at the prospect. If anything, I'll be leaving for Rohan soon. My future is as uncertain as the wind now," she said.

Arwen smiled again. "It takes much for a man to ask the Queen of Gondor what to do for the Lady of Rohan," she said softly. Arwen looked closely at Éowyn, but she appeared unmoved.

"It never works out right eventually – it's always a disaster," she said icily, before curtseying again, and taking her leave. Loud voices from down the hallway attracted her curiosity and attention.

"Yes, you sealed Minas Tirith. You sealed it with me in it. I have my ways, my King, and every last one of you fell stupidly into my trap. I've always been here. Watching at his funeral. Nice elf, wasn't he? Never meant to kill him in such a manner, he was _much_ too much of a gentleman,"

Éowyn felt her blood run clod. It _could _not be. Why couldn't he leave them all alone for once? Why couldn't Arwen sense _any _of this?

"You know as well as myself that I will not go down without a fight, Grima Wormtongue. You were once a man of Rohan. Why forfeit that?" Her brother's voice joined in.

Aragorn's angry voice rang out. "Grima Wormtongue. If you insist on a duel, you will have it. Speak no more," he said furiously. However, Éomer laid a restraining hand on Aragorn's arm.

"No, Aragorn. We get the truth out of this lying snipe before we do anything. Speak! What have you always been here for? Will our deaths satisfy your desires?"

"Saruman will come to power after my work is done," he said, "The Kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan will all be one. The power of Saruman still rages, and neither of you can fight the onslaught of the tide that is his power,"

Éowyn shook with silent fury. This was her chance to avenge her husband's death, and rid them of this scum. But if she failed, both her child and herself would be lost and sacrificed in the process. She closed her eyes and invoked the power of the Lady Galadriel to help her, begging for advice. Yet nothing came through. Frustrated, she knew what she had to do. She dashed into the room and picked up the sword of her fallen husband. It gave her hope and a rush of power surged through her. It reminded her of their love and she strengthened her resolve. She gripped the sword tightly, and she knew that she would avenge the death of Haldir, the corruption of Theoden's mind, his words of poison towards them all. As she prayed silently under her breath, she yanked the door open, startling all of them.

"Well, well. Look who just joined us," Grima said. Éowyn felt no need for words at the moment. Gesturing wildly to Éomer, she seized Grima Wormtongue and pushed him to the side of the wall, an ironic parody of the way he had thrust and parried with Haldir before murdering him. Éomer was prepared to go forward and attack if he saw the imminent need to do so. He recalled the strong willpower of his sister, and saw the fire flash in her eyes.

"I can almost begin to taste the sweet victory," Éowyn said, glaring hard at Grima Wormongue. She felt particularly vindictive, and she closed her eyes. It had to be emotionless. She could not kill. It had to be purely out of revenge, but before she could do anything, Éomer said, "Stop. Grima Wormtongue, you must confess now. Either way, you are a cornered man – and a dead one. Your sword has fallen Saruman has fallen. Say your last confession, Grima, and save your soul for salvation if you wish!" Éomer said commandingly.

Grima Wormtongue spat condescendingly at his feet, and glared back and forth between the siblings. Éowyn grabbed him again. "Éomer, it is useless. He will not repent, and the only thing that is left is to kill him. We will not be safe in any other way, and will have to live the rest of our lives in fear," she said furiously. As the fury rose in her blood, she felt something inside her snap. She flung the sword directly at him. The blade sliced through flesh and blood, and as Éowyn stood horrified at her own actions, she closed her eyes as Grima Wormtongue gurgled and choked, his eyes rolling upwards before he collapsed.

She had finally done what she had been thinking of for so long. Yes. She had. She hoped that she would be forgiven, but yet she told herself that she had been able to stop the imminent attacks on the two kingdoms. _My dearest Haldir_, she thought sadly, _Rest in peace, for I have avenged your death…my love._ As she thought, a searing pain ripped through her abdomen. _It can't be…not now_, she thought frantically. As she bent over and screamed, she mamaged to gasp out, "Call for help!" in between her wracked breathing.

As Arwen rushed into the room, she seemed momentarily shocked, and called, "Send her to the Houses of Healing," she said. "My magic is not enough," she said gravely. Éowyn felt images swirling around her as she was carried away. _Please, let my child be safe. Let him be born into happiness and joy,_ she thought, frightened.

* * *

A/n: Firstly, thanks to all the reviewers! Okay. I promise you this has a happy(ish) sort of ending to it, and that the next chapter will be the last (because I've scribbled it out already, but haven't had the time to type it out)…so…yes what happens later is anybody's guess, but I PROMISE HALDIR WILL MAKE ONE LAST APPEARANCE! Don't ask how, because I have taken dangerous liberties with the storyline. Haha. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A/N: This is kind of the last chapter, the ending/wrap-up-loose-ends chapter…the chapter where I have to put things right and make it…a happy(ish) sort of ending…read on!

* * *

Arwen gripped Éowyn's cold hands tightly. As she stared at the Lady of Rohan, she felt sympathy going out to her, and thought that it was dreadfully tragic that Haldir hadn't lived to see his child born and also pity for Éowyn for having to go through all this alone. Éowyn had her eyes squeezed shut tightly, and she cried out in pain and agony. 

"Just a moment, milady," Éowyn obeyed meekly, holding on to the brink of consciousness and onto whatever hopes she had left. She gasped as another convulsion wracked her and she felt tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks and bit her tongue in fear. Of course, the ladies of the court had told her that childbirth was a long and painful process, but she had never expected it to be like this. As she felt the child begin to emerge, she felt as if she had exerted herself, soul and spirit. She felt like collapsing, but Arwen grabbed her again.

"Lady Éowyn, it's just a little more," she said worriedly. Éowyn closed her eyes and summoned whatever energy she had left, and pushed with all the might she could possibly give. Haldir ought to be here. _I hope he's somewhere, and that he can see his child_, she thought, crying even harder now. As she finally completed her exertions, she cradled the fruit of her labour close to her before she passed the child to Arwen, and fell unconscious.

"Lady Éowyn," Galadriel's voice floated to her from the depths of the world. She felt a rush of energy shoot through her, and she saw the beauty of the Golden Wood flood before her eyes.

"Lady Galadriel," she said, tears of love and appreciation flooding her eyes.

"My dearest child," Galadriel saidsoftly. "The Valar have granted you a temporary reprieve. Would you like to speak to Haldir for one last time?" Éowyn felt her heart leap for joy, but with wistful sadness as well. _The very last time._ She had always believed that he'd always be there, but still…it was better than none.

"Thank you, Lady Galadriel," she said to the sedate Lady of Lothlorien. As the image – soul? – of Haldir appeared before her, she felt bitter tears trickle down her cheeks. She felt ashamed – it seemed that the only thing she had been ding was crying and sobbing recently.

Haldir smiled at her, and she whispered, "Haldir, my dearest," she said affectionately. Haldir arched his eyebrows at her, and laughed softly.

"The Valar finally relented after long, repeated pleas," he said, a light note in his voice. Yet, most of it was still infused with sadness.

"Éowyn, remember that I am always here. Wipe those tears, for I am not gone in the literal sense of the word," he said to her gently.

"Haldir, it seemed so long since you were here," Éowyn sighed. "Without you, life reverts back to its original bleakness," she said sadly.

"Bleak only of the beauty that you do not see, my love. Darkness is inescapable, but do not sink into it," he said. Her heart rushed and she shook her read.

"Haldir…and as I dream and live you will be there for me…and the child?" Éowyn said softly.

"Yes, Éowyn. And the child…tell him about me, but not how I perished. Tell him only what he needs to know and what he should know, Éowyn. Life must go on for you both,"

As she leaned forwards, she realized that their hands met, followed by their lips in the slowest and sweetest of kisses. As the vision faded into the most memorable of silver strands entwining and immersing themselves wholly in Éowyn's memories, she awoke, a blissful smile on her face.

"Closure," she said to herself, smiling, knowing that she had finally achieved what Queen Arwen had told her to, and felt surprisingly at peace.

Faramir sat stonily at the dinner table again. It was getting incredibly hard to look anyone in the eye here after that incident with the Queen, and he realized that he could only sit and muse to himself in silence. Éowyn appeared for the fist time in days, looking slightly tired but otherwise all right. She cradled her child with one arm, and sat down next to him.

"Prince Faramir," she said coldly. "I know what happened between yourself, and the Queen the other day – and I have to tell you the truth: I witnessed it, so do not lie to me. However, you have the freedom of choice – tell the King, or would you rather not risk hurting an old friend's feelings?"

Faramir shook his head slightly. "I must tell you, Lady Éowyn, we were merely having a discussion over some issues and the Queen was giving some advice – and I don't think it was intentional," he said.

"I understand, but can you imagine the King's reaction if he finds out? 'Situation blown out of proportion' wouldn't even begin to describe it."

Faramir sighed again, this time out of exasperation and also weariness. "Please don't Lady Éowyn. Firstly, Queen Arwen would barely want that to happen we've been avoiding each other since then. And essentially, the very root of the matter, I was truly asking her for advice on what to do about you," he confessed, looking sheepish.

Éowyn sighed. Perhaps it would be best to resolve one matter before she went on with anything else.

"Look, Prince Faramir," she said, exasperated. "Put it this way, a friendship through time is worth much more than a romance," she said.

Faramir smiled. "Actually, I was considering being of some assistance, thaking the Queen's advice and just helping out when possible…" Éowyn laughed, but her demeanor turned deadly serious again.

"I'll be returning to Rohan shortly, seeing that the Grima Wormtongue problem has been resolved, so don't bother," she said. "But whatever remains, your problem with Arwen still remains, to you it may be momentary shock…but to Aragorn, it may be painful if he realizes," she said softly. "And…good luck, my friend," she said before standing up to leave.

Éomer and Aragorn sat in Aragorn's library.

"My sister and I will be leaving shortly for Rohan again. There is much we need to do, and we must return. Thank you all for the hospitability," he said, smiling at his friend gratefully. "And now, we know that we will be safe,"

Aragorn appeared deep in thought. "Has Arwen said anything to you in recent days?"

Éomer looked surprised. "The Queen? In face, I haven't spoken to her since she congratulated me on being an uncle, but no, we haven't spoken much at all," he said. He was slightly disconcerted. Why would the Queen speak to him, indeed? It was an odd notion.

"That sounds very suspicious," Aragorn said. "She's been avoiding me, and instead, chooses to spend time with the other ladies. Not that it would be unusual, but considering her disdain for their meaningless chatter…"

Éomer couldn't help but notice something else.

"Aragorn, do you notice that Prince Faramir has been acting…peculiar…lately? He's been sitting at one end of the table, just…thinking and thinking? He always seems to be deep in thought, he almost appears philosophical," Éomer said.

Aragorn frowned. "Éomer, do not poke fun at him. He does that a lot, and rather regularly too. Perhaps it's just habit," he said, but he was slightly thrown off kilter. Was it possible that Arwen and Faramir were in cahoots? As the improbability of the situation got to him, he burst into laughter, and chuckled as her picked up a piece of parchment, a quill, and began his daily record of the day's events.

As Arwen overheard the conversation, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. The situation had indeed been blown out of proportion. What a scandal there would be, she thought, if news got out. She hoped that Faramir would have the good sense not to say anything. Even so, she felt pangs of conscience biting at her. She sighed uneasily, and as Éomer exited the library, she entered and sat down next to Aragorn. She gave him a soft kiss on his forehead, and smiled at him.

"Arwen, my dear," he said to her.

She shuddered slightly, and as she clenched her fists tightly at her sides to calm down and to relax, she found herself blurting out, hoping to get the pain over with as soon as possible, she said in a rush, "Aragorn, I think I really ought to say this and it may come as a large shock…but I'm so sorry it had to happen. It's really terrible carrying the burden of unspoken secrets and I have to tell you now. I kissed Faramir," she said regretfully.

"So. It was as Éomer thought. That Faramir had been behaving more oddly than usual," Aragorn said mutinously, looking hurt and betrayed.

"It's not what you might think," Arwen said beseechingly. "He asked me for advice, and it just happened, in a manner of speaking. It was instinctive, and more of an intimate symbol of…friendship," she said.

Aragorn tightened his lips into a scowl. "And may I ask what might you be so delightfully speaking about?"

Arwen sighed. "You might have noticed – or perhaps not? – his awkward behaviour around Lady Éowyn? Well, he was trying to ask me well-meaning advice about her,"

"Oh," Aragorn said. He realized that there was no point in prolonging the situation and harbouring bitter thoughts. The royal couple gazed at each other, understanding and love passing between them with one single look. As they linked arms, they walked down to the entrance of the beautiful fortress of Minas Tirith, where Éomer and Éowyn were planning to leave for Rohan with the child, and Faramir was ready to return to Ithilien.

As Aragorn shot Faramir a knowing look, then a smile, Faramir knew that he knew – and that he was magnanimously forgiven nonetheless. He smiled back, and after a round of farewells, took his leave. Finally, as Éomer and Éowyn mounted their horses, with Éowyn cradling the baby in a makeshift sling, they exchanged warm wishes and with goodbyes ringing in the air, they rode off into the sunset, back to where Rohan stood silent and still, waiting…

THE END.

* * *

A/N: Oh wells. The story's ended. I know its disappointing, and all, but I am so so so so so sorry. I know it turned out terrible, but still…yes I am kind of proud of myself to some extent for completing it, but…I hope the ending is appropriate. Thank you for patiently reading and for reviewing and for putting up with whatever I decided to throw into the story…ahwells. 

Will be working on something else next, a Phantom of the Opera fic, so…yes taking a little break from LOTR at the moment. Goodbye!


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